Happiness Key (13 page)

Wanda was the first to respond. She turned and marched out of the office, through the bathroom and into the hall leading to the living room. “Okay, I don’t know who’s here, but you’d better plan to speak well of yourself.”

Janya followed, although somewhat reluctantly. No one was in the living room. But now there were sounds coming from the kitchen.

“Great,” Tracy said softly.

Janya heard the refrigerator door open and close, then the dragging noise again. By then Wanda was standing in the kitchen doorway, but Janya could see one lavender sleeve and one thin hand.

“Alice! You like to have scared us to death,” Wanda said.

Janya and Tracy joined her in the doorway. Alice looked up, as if she weren’t surprised to see them. “I brought the mail.”

The women looked at each other. Tracy was the first to speak. “You have a key?”

“The door was open.”

“I don’t mean today. The other times you’ve been over here. You’ve been bringing the mail in every day since he died?”

“Herb gave me one.” Now Alice looked confused. “Was that…a bad idea?”

“No, no. Of course not,” Tracy said. “Only I didn’t know, that’s all. And I couldn’t figure out how the mail ended up on the table.”

“He said…” Alice, in a lightweight lavender warmup suit, appeared, as she always did, to be struggling. “Somebody needed one. In case.” Her face sagged. “I should have checked….”

“Oh, please don’t worry.” Janya understood and hurried to reassure her. “No one could have helped him. He died suddenly. Very quickly.”

“I had a key, too,” Wanda said. “And I never checked, either, Alice. Maybe he thought if we both had one, he’d be safer.”

“I saw you walking over here…today. I thought I would clean out the refrigerator. It’s the least I can do. Things will spoil.”

Janya was afraid Tracy would dismiss Alice and send her home, perhaps from kindness—which was sometimes the cruelest reason to chase another person away. But Tracy nodded, as if she thought that was an excellent idea.

“That’s very nice of you, and something I didn’t even think about. We were just going through his things. We’re trying to find out if he has family anywhere. We don’t know who to notify.”

“Oh, he has a daughter.”

Tracy looked delighted. “Alice, you remembered! Lee said you didn’t know anything.”

“Why would Lee say that?”

“He asked…never mind. It’s great you did. What else can you tell us?”

Alice looked blank.

“Do you know where the daughter lives? Her name?” Janya asked gently.

“No. I don’t think so.” Alice stared into space. Janya was afraid she was finished, but she began again in a moment.

“Once I was telling him about Karen. My…” She seemed to lose track for a moment, then she nodded. “My girl. Karen. I said…I think…that it seemed like forever to me since she died. Forever since I had seen her.”

“Yes?” Janya said. “That must make you sad.”

Alice looked grateful. “He said his daughter…” She bit her lip; then she shrugged.

“That his daughter died, too?” Tracy asked.

“No, I think he said…it had been a long time since he’d seen her, too, but she was still alive.” She brightened a little. “Yes, that’s what he said.”

“He didn’t say where she lived, did he?”

“No. At least…I don’t think… My head. It’s like smoke rising. Sometimes I can see through it. Sometimes? Not.”

“That’s more than the rest of us knew,” Janya said. “It is good you remembered.”

“I think there was more.”

“More?” Tracy looked perplexed. “What? Daughters?”

“Family. More family. Only I can’t think why that seems…right.”

“Well, it’s pretty clear he had a daughter,” Tracy said. “And now we’ll see if we can find her name and address somewhere. Maybe we’ll come across an address book.”

“The refrigerator?” Alice asked.

“It’s very kind of you. I really appreciate your help.”

Alice smiled, and Janya got a glimpse of the woman she must have been before her daughter died and her health betrayed her. “Good.”

The others marched back into the office. Tracy was the first to speak. “Does anybody else on this key want to come to the party?”

“Do you think she knew more and just forgot it?” Wanda asked.

“I’m surprised she remembered that much. Lee said he asked her about Herb and she didn’t remember a thing.”

“Me, I have days like that. Menopause is turning my brain to scrambled eggs. And hot flashes cook ’em up something awful.”

“Menopause can certainly affect good judgment,” Tracy said brightly.

“Now listen here, I can walk right out and leave you to dig without my help.”

“But what fun would we have without you?”

Janya wasn’t sure what was going on, but the two women seemed to have established a truce of sorts. Neither looked angry, but there was tension in the air. To head off problems, she scooped up the file folders again and handed them to Wanda.

“If you go through these, I will finish looking through the desk, then I’ll see if there is anything in the big file cabinet. Tracy, you might want to start on the top box in the closet. It was not sealed. Maybe he used it recently.”

“Aren’t you the organized one?” Wanda said. “Everywhere I turn, somebody from India is telling me how to do things. I called about my cell phone service yesterday, and the next thing I knew I was talking to somebody in Bangalore.”

Janya guessed that she was supposed to feel pleased. “India is a large country. I could not fix your cell phone.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re much prettier than he was, too.” Wanda marched out with her folders.

“I’ll just get that box,” Tracy said, and did.

Twenty minutes later, Janya joined them in the living room where Wanda was taking up the sofa and Tracy a big chair. She arrived just in time to be served a cola in a glass filled to the top with ice. Alice set one in front of each of them, then gestured to the last chair, as if she wanted Janya to take it.

“How’s the refrigerator?” Tracy asked.

“Clear of anything…” She stopped.

“That might spoil?”

Alice nodded. “Now I have to go. Lee will be home.”

“How’s his car these days?”

Alice looked perplexed. “He drives it.”

“Well, I’m glad he got it fixed.” Tracy put her box to one side and stood. “Thank you again for coming, Alice.”

“Lee was gone.” She nodded at the others; then she left, walking slowly out the door.

“She’s as sweet as shoofly pie, but that woman’s one egg short of a custard,” Wanda said.

“She had a stroke about the time her daughter died. Combined with the stress, I’m sure the past year’s been difficult. Maybe she’s just catching up,” Tracy said.

Wanda looked up from her folders. “How do you know so much about her? She tell you that? You’re suddenly the sympathetic landlady?”

“Lee did.”

“The two of you chat a lot?”

Tracy closed the flap of the box and set it on the floor. “When it comes to
chatting
with men, I’m afraid I’m out of my league. Apparently I have a lot to learn.”

“Might be a job in it for you. Pay for some of those repairs on my cottage.”

Janya watched them glare at each other. A change of
subject seemed in order, although she had no idea why. “Has either of you discovered anything yet?”

“About what?” Tracy demanded. She seemed to realize she’d raised her voice to the wrong person. “Oh, you mean about Herb. Not so far. I think he clipped every article on fishing that the
Sun County Sentinel
ever published. Either of you need information on bait or tides?”

“He used to go out to the point and fish on the beach near every morning,” Wanda said. “I never saw him come back with anything.”

“I guess we can toss these. They aren’t exactly family mementoes.” Tracy stood and nudged the box to the side. “I’ll get the next one.”

“Well, here’s something,” Wanda said, before Tracy could go. “Herb’s birth certificate.”

“Really? Let me see.” Wanda held it out, and Tracy took it. “Herbert Lowe Krause. Montgomery, Alabama. June 22, 1920. That made him—” Tracy wiggled her fingers as if she were counting on them “—almost eighty-eight. That’s a good long life.”

“Too bad they don’t update those things with recent information. Marriages. Children, that kind of thing. It would have made this easier.”

“Which folder was it in?” Janya asked.

Wanda squinted at the folder label. “It’s all faded.” She leaned closer. “I think it says ‘Legal.’”

“Anything else interesting in there?” Tracy leaned over as Wanda skimmed through the remaining contents.

Wanda held up another document. “Look here. Another birth certificate.” She leaned over it. “Clyde James Franklin. September 14, 1922. Augusta, Maine.”

“Not a brother or a son.”

“So why’d Herb have this? Lord, it’s so old it looks like the one right from the hospital. A friend who died,
maybe? Some kind of memento? You never know what people will keep.” Wanda replaced it and kept searching. “Here’s something else official.” She lifted out another document and scanned it. “Interesting. Discharge papers from the army, looks like.”

“I bet Herb served in World War II.” Tracy paused. “Is my math right? Two, not One?”

“Math’s right, but not the name. Clyde again. Released from duty on November 17, 1945.”

“Really? I bet you’re right. He must have been somebody Herb was close to, maybe an army buddy.”

“And here’s a high school diploma. Cony High School in Augusta. For Clyde, not Herb.”

“Is there anything about Herb in that folder besides his birth certificate?”

“I’m working on it.” Wanda held up another paper and scanned it. “More Clyde. Certificate for some sort of welding course.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Tracy said. “So some guy named Clyde Franklin could weld.”

Wanda put that one back, too. “Okay, here’s something with Herb’s name on it.”

“At last.”

“It’s some kind of Social Security form. What he can count on getting. When. You get these a lot when you get to be my age.”

“Anybody else’s name on it?”

“No, just his.” She went through the rest of the papers, shaking her head after each one. “More of that kind of stuff. Recent stuff. A car title from the eighties. An old driver’s license.”

“Nothing with a wife’s name? A daughter’s?”

“Bills, receipts.” Wanda kept skimming. “He had a boat, but he sold it. Bought a fair amount of fishing tackle
from some place over in Dunedin. Had some expensive dentures, I’ll tell you. More than one receipt from some florist in Georgia.”

“That could be significant,” Janya said.

Wanda looked up. “And the reason?”

“Are the other receipts from Georgia?”

Wanda paged through. “Not any of these.”

“We know he lived in Kentucky for a short time,” Tracy said. “The preacher said Herb was there about a year, but he decided to come back to Florida.”

“Come back,” Janya said. “So perhaps he was living
here
before he went
there
.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Why was he paying a florist in Georgia?” Janya asked.

“If you ask me, we’re barking up the wrong tree,” Wanda said, closing the folder. “Nothing about a daughter or any other family member.”

“How many receipts were there from the florist?” Janya asked.

“I don’t know. Six, seven?”

“Maybe he was sending flowers to this missing daughter.”

“You know, that could be true,” Tracy said. “I’ll call the shop and ask if they have anything in their records.”

Wanda smiled. “Maybe I ought to do it. People respond to my prompting a little better.”

“Well, you’d be a natural. You do have all that
phone
experience,” Tracy said.

“I could call,” Janya volunteered quickly.

“No, I’ll do it,” Tracy said. “It’s my job, but thank you.”

“I don’t know that you’ll find out anything,” Wanda
said, handing her the folder. “The receipts are from a while ago.”

“I’ll give it a try. Can’t hurt.”

“You like jigsaw puzzles?” Wanda asked. “This is like putting one together, figuring out who he was.”

“It is a shame we didn’t take the time to do it while he was alive to appreciate the attention,” Janya said.

“I’m feeling a tad weak in the knees.” Wanda got slowly to her feet. “I’m going home and rest my bones. But I’ll take the rest of these folders, if you want, and see what we’ve got.”

Janya looked at the clock beside the television and realized that the morning had flown by. “I should go, too, but I can take mine, as well.”

“I’ll take the next box with me,” Tracy said, standing, too. “We got a start. Let’s stay in touch. Let me know if you find anything, okay?”

They walked together to the door. “If I find anything of interest, I will tell you Friday at the dance class,” Janya said.

“Then you’re going?”

“I plan to.”

“I’ll take you over,” Tracy said. “It’s no trouble. Then you can tell me what you discovered in your folders.”

Janya was surprised. She realized she was actually looking forward to it.

With summer vacation right around the corner, Tracy was positive she was not going to be hired as a swimming instructor. If Gladys Woodley had passed Tracy’s application to her husband, she had done so without a recommendation.

On Friday morning Tracy sealed the last of three envelopes, bills she’d put off until she couldn’t wait any longer. The balance in her checking account was shrinking as fast as a supermodel on the Hollywood Cookie Diet. Lee’s proposed sales pitch to Florida developers was probably in the works, but she knew it wouldn’t bear fruit right away. Maribel had brought a couple of men to walk over the property on Wednesday, but afterward the Realtor had admitted that they planned to wait and see what happened with Wild Florida’s lawsuit.

As she dressed for the dance aerobics class, Tracy wondered if she should go. She was getting plenty of exercise at home, and she was embarrassed to face Gladys. But she had promised Janya a ride, and she owed
the young woman at least that for all the help she had given. A new session would start after next week, and then she could find an excuse not to attend.

Janya, with what looked like books under her arm, was walking toward Tracy’s house when Tracy stopped to pick her up. Today the other woman was dressed in a short-sleeved blouse with embroidery around the neck and sleeves, and loose pants. She wore black shoes with rubber soles, although they were nothing like the tightly laced up Reeboks Tracy wore. Her hair was braided and pinned off her neck.

“You look ready to go.” Tracy shifted once her passenger was inside and took off again.

“I must stop by the library on the way home, so you won’t need to bring me back.”

“I was going to stop myself. We can go together, unless you have something else you need to do afterward.”

“No, only the library. Although I wonder. Rishi suggested that perhaps city hall might have records for Herb.”

Tracy thought that sounded promising. “Maybe we can make a quick stop there, as well.”

As Tracy flew along the road to the bridge they fell silent, but when traffic forced her to slow, Janya took a slip of paper out of a small cloth purse. “I made a short list of what I found in Herb’s papers. But I don’t think any of it will help you. I would have come to your house to tell you if I’d thought it would.”

Tracy had a feeling this was going to be that kind of day. “I saw Wanda for a few minutes yesterday. She didn’t have anything helpful, either. She gave back her stuff, and I pitched it.”

“Before he lived in the cottage, he lived in an apartment in town, but the building was transformed into
luxury condominiums—he kept the notice—so it is unlikely any of his neighbors remain.”

“It’s like there was a campaign to wipe out all traces of the old guy.”

“Started by him, it seems. There was so little in his file. Jokes he had torn from magazines. Medical records. Photographs—”

“Really? Names on the back?”

“They were of a dog named Rutabaga.”

“He must not have liked the dog very much.”

“There were registration papers for his car—no other names listed. An entire file of fishing licenses.” She put the paper back in her purse. “Those were the most interesting things I found.”

Tracy slapped the steering wheel with her palm. “I might as well just pack up his stuff and put it out by the side of the road.”

“Did you say that the funeral home will cremate him soon?”

“It’s set for tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t we be there?”

Tracy couldn’t think of any place she would rather
not
be. Luckily Herb had anticipated that. “I asked. They said his instructions, such as they were, state that no service of any kind is to be held, and no one is to attend.”

“This is so very sad.”

“Yes, well, maybe if his family protested, the home would ignore his wishes. But we aren’t family.”

“Then we should gather together tomorrow and remember him.”

Tracy wondered what exactly they would remember.

“Did you call the florist in Georgia?” Janya asked.

“Out of business for five years.”

“We are becoming, what do you call it, investigators?”

“Private investigators. P.I.’s. Gumshoes. Detectives.”

“I hope real detectives have better luck.”

“Maybe that’s what I ought to do. I’m thinking about finding a job. I could be a detective, only apparently, I stink.”

“Could Wanda help find you a job?”

“That’s funnier than you know.” Tracy smiled at Janya. “But no, probably not.”

They parked in the side lot, and Tracy reminded herself not to act embarrassed. She had apologized and more or less vindicated herself by catching Bay. She would simply smile pleasantly, make small talk when she paid her fee, and not ask why she hadn’t gotten the job.

Inside, the center was buzzing. One group had just gotten out, and since all the participants were wearing gis, Tracy assumed it was a martial arts class. A flock of toddlers, herded by two young women, wiggled by, and Janya and Tracy waited until they were safely out of the way before they went to the front desk.

Gladys looked as unruffled as usual, but she also looked like somebody who could use help. They waited until several other people finished at the desk before they approached with their money in hand.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” Gladys said, the moment she saw Tracy. “I called this morning, and when you didn’t answer, I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to reach you all day.”

Tracy felt hope rise, then told herself that getting a silly little job teaching swimming was nothing.

“Well, I’m here now. What’s up?”

“Woody wants to interview you right away. Do you have time?”

“Sure. I’ll just skip the class or go in late.”

“I don’t think you’ll be going in at all. He’ll want to give you the tour.”

Tracy thought that was a bit overdone, considering that she would only be working in the pool area. Still, she knew better than to say anything ever again that could be construed as ungrateful or rude.

She smiled brightly. “Should I go down to his office?”

“Third door on the right along the green hall. His name’s on it.”

“Should I bring an application to fill out?” She glanced at Janya, who was frowning in confusion. “I sort of applied to teach swimming lessons,” she explained. “I think Mr. Woodley wants to interview me.”

“He has your résumé,” Gladys said. Then she smiled. “But he’s not going to interview you for the instructor’s job, dear. He wants to interview you for the supervisor’s position.”

Woody had a round face, a round body, and guileless round eyes that looked as if they belonged on a much younger man. Tracy knew better than to accept any of this at face value. Unless one of the town’s politicians owed him a favor, Woody had won the director’s position through his own merits.

He seated Tracy in the chair beside his desk; then he joined her in the one beside it and started right in.

“We hired somebody for this position last week. This morning she announced she had a permanent offer at a health club in Tampa. I’ve been tearing out my hair, then Gladys gave me your application.”

Woody had very little hair to tear out. Tracy had very little experience being anybody’s savior.

She tried to explain tactfully. “I was actually apply
ing to teach swimming. I taught in college. Nobody drowned.”

He had a guileless smile, as well. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor. You’ll need it on this job.”

“Woody…” She paused. “I’m sorry. May I call you Woody?”

“Of course. Call me anything you want. Just say you’ll take the job.”

“But you don’t know anything about me.”

“Of course I do. We called all your references when we were going to offer you the instructor’s position. And I’ve gone over your work experience—”

“There’s not much. You saw that, right?”

“Yes, it’s mostly volunteer, of course. But it’s plenty for what we need, and you have the perfect college degree to augment it. I looked up the course work for your program at Long Beach, and you’ll be a wonderful fit.”

Tracy tried to figure out a way to explain that she didn’t want the supervisor’s position. She needed money, yes, and certainly this would pay more than the instructor slot. But this was a real job, the kind careers were made of. The kind that came with huge responsibilities, long working hours, huge responsibilities. Okay, she was obviously stuck on that last part.

“I don’t know that I’m up to this,” she said, struggling to sound modest, not lazy. “I don’t want to sell myself when I have my own doubts.”

“Let me be frank with you, Tracy.” He leaned forward, or at least as far as he could over a belly that testified that someone in the Woodley household was an excellent cook. “I’m willing to take a chance here. You’re short on experience, but you’re also the only person with a résumé on file who is even halfway qualified to run this summer
program. And it starts immediately. I need somebody now, yesterday, last week.”

“What about the woman I’d be replacing? You know, your permanent supervisor? In a pinch, wouldn’t she come back and help out until you hire somebody more…worthy?”

“Susan just had twins. She’s breast feeding. Can you imagine her running around this center with her blouse open and a baby in each arm?”

Tracy only half listened as Woody listed the duties of the job. She was mulling over this extraordinary turn of events.

“I know this must seem a little overwhelming,” Woody said at last. “But I’ll tell you what clinched the deal. The tennis tournament you organized to benefit multiple sclerosis. We’re going to have our own tournament this summer. We need somebody with experience.”

Tracy had really only been a gofer that summer. She had taken the position because she had a crush on the club’s tennis pro, and she’d guessed—correctly—that they would be working hand in hand. Jerry, the pro, had done most of the work, of course. Jerry plus his roommate Frank, who had turned out to be a lot more than just Jerry’s old buddy from high school.

“How much does this position pay?” she heard herself asking.

He named a figure that would have made her laugh two years ago. Now she whistled. She could take care of all the repairs on the tenant cottages, put more in the bank for next year’s tax payment, maybe even hire an attorney to look into the situation with Wild Florida.

“Health insurance, too,” he said, like a father promising a child a treat after a tetanus booster. “You’ll be covered, since you’re a replacement, not a summer
employee.” He stood, sensing he’d reeled her in. “You’ll take it?”

“I…I…guess I will.”

“Wonderful.” He held out his hand. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other. It’s an active job. If you need anything at any time, my door is open. Meantime, I’ll give you a quick tour, then I’ll turn you loose with Susan’s notes. She was very organized, our Susan. By the time you get through them all, you’ll have an excellent idea how to move forward. But you’ll have to catch up quickly. The program starts in just under two weeks. Susan did a lot of the preliminaries, but there’s still a lot left to do.”

“I’m overwhelmed.”

“Not yet you’re not, but just wait. First the tour, then Gladys will handle all the necessary paperwork—and there’s a bundle. You can take it home and bring it back Monday, if you prefer. I’d like Monday to be your first day, if possible. Oh, and Gladys will fill you in on the tournament. We’re hosting, and it’s a big deal for us.”

Tracy followed in a daze through a whirlwind tour of the facility. Most of it was more or less familiar, although she hadn’t seen the pool up close, or the men’s and women’s locker rooms. She was impressed anew with the indoor walking/jogging track, the exercise and weight rooms, the multiple classrooms, the game room. The tennis courts looked to be in terrific condition. The shuffleboard and boccie ball courts were amazing, as befit, she supposed, an area with so many retirees. She thought of the chess players and hoped the rec center stayed far away from board games.

Woody hadn’t stopped talking. “Your big focus will be the youth program, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed.

“They arrive at nine. We don’t provide meals, but we
have snacks. There’s usually juice when they arrive, a midmorning snack of milk or juice and graham crackers, and then, at noon, they have the lunch they brought with them. Afternoons we try to provide fruit, popcorn, pretzels, something that’s not too sweet. We have water jugs available at all times, especially when the children are outdoors. You’ll need to make sure that whoever is in charge of that follows through.”

By now she had figured out that she ought to be taking notes. She was scribbling on deposit slips, since she rarely needed them for their real purpose these days.

He continued in the same vein. By the end of the tour it was clear that for the most part her job was making sure other people did theirs. And if they didn’t, she filled in. People got sick? She filled in. People forgot? She filled in. People got lazy? Same thing.

They ended up back in the reception area. Gladys grinned when she saw them approach. She finished printing a receipt and handed it over to a woman in black spandex. Then she folded her hands on the counter.

“So…you took the job?”

“I guess I did.”

“I’m going to leave Tracy with you now,” the beaming Woody told his wife. Tracy thought his was a smile seen most often on carnival midways. She was as gullible as a farm boy forking over a month’s spending money in a quest to win a stuffed gorilla, and Woody was thrilled to take whatever she gave him.

“Well,” Gladys said, when they were alone, “I took the liberty of putting everything together for you.” She reached under the counter and took out an expanding folder, held together by an elastic band. “You can do most of this at home and ask any questions when you
bring it back Monday. I know you’re probably not prepared to stay today.”

“Wow.”

“I put my faith in you when I gave him your résumé.”

Tracy heard the message. Gladys believed Tracy could do this, and Tracy was not to fail her.

“I’ll bring this back Monday morning.” She took the folder and tucked it under her arm. “And Woody said you’d tell me a little about the tennis tournament?” That, at least, was something she could sink her teeth into.